The Definition of Bravery
by a-real-nowhere-girl
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is a soldier fighting for the independence of America. He's not the most disciplined soldier and after falling asleep on watch, he is captured and brought in front of Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland of the British Army. Both are passionate of their side's case. Will meeting each other change this and spark a forbidden friendship, or something more? UsUk ArthurxAlfred
1. Sleeping on the Job

One thousand miles.

They had to have walked _at least_ one thousand miles by now.

Alfred looked down at his feet. He was positive they were blistering and bleeding at this point, only because of the numbness, which made it feel like little needles were pricking his toes and heels. He sighed quietly and looked at the men around him. They all looked as tired as he felt.

"You okay?"

Alfred's head snapped to the right."Yeah I'm good."

The man next to him looked forward again, but his attention remained on Alfred. "You don't _look_ okay."

"Matt, I'm fine."

" _Matthew_."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "That takes too long to-."

" _Jones. Williams. Quit your taking!_ " Both men immediately shut their mouths and nodded. The tall man in the front narrowed his eyes and turned back around to lead the platoon.

Alfred chuckled. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He mumbled.

Matthew frowned. "You're going to get us shot, and it won't be from a Brit either." He whispered harshly, occasionally shooting glances at the lieutenant  
in the front of the platoon of men.

Alfred chuckled. "Alright, alright."

The officer in front called the men to a halt. "We'll camp here for the night. A few of you get some wood and water, the rest of you, start setting up the tents."

Alfred smiled. "About time!"

"Don't smile yet, Jones." The lieutenant walked up to him and smirked. "You're on watch."

Alfred frowned. " _Perfect_."

* * *

" _Get up_."

Alfred groggily opened his eyes only to find the unfriendly end of a bayonet pointed at his face. He gasped and quickly squirmed up on his elbows. "I said, _get up_." The bayonet was nudged closer to his face. Alfred's eyes snapped to the side. His gun was gone. A chuckle filled the air. "Looking for _this_?" Alfred's blood ran cold. That was definitely a British accent and that was definitely his rifle glistening in the moonlight on the man's back.

 _Well, that's what you get for falling asleep on watch Alfred._

The man nudged him lightly in the chest. "Let's go. _Up_." Alfred shakily stood. He could barely see the red uniform of the British soldier in front of him. "Right. Hand's where I can see them!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You took my gun-." The man's grip on the gun tightened and he cocked it. Alfred sighed and lifted his hands up. "Alright fine."

The man gave a quick nod forward. "Walk."

The moonlight finally gave Alfred a good view of the man's face. His blond hair was ruffled and popping up in all directions, his disheveled appearance matched his eyes which were wide and afraid. Alfred scoffed. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"More than you do, yank! I am a _trained_ British soldier, not just some farmer who decided to join your makeshift army!" The man's expression became dark. " _Move_."

They man had prodded Alfred for the location of his camp and as expected, Alfred refused to tell him, forcing the Brit to lead him back to the Redcoat camp.

* * *

Finally the warm glow of a fire came into view. Alfred smirked. Stupid limeys had made a fire, completely exposing them.

Alfred was led into the camp and forcefully shoved into a large tent, causing him to lose his balance and land on his knees. He shook his head, quickly noticing he was now in front of a small wooden desk.

The man behind him walked around him and approached the desk. "Sir."

Papers shuffled and a pair of black boots walked around the desk, stopping in front of Alfred. One of the boots came up and tilted Alfred's head up. A blond man above him grinned. Alfred glared daggers at the man who only snickered down at him. "Well, what have you brought me, Peter?"

The soldier behind Alfred, apparently known as Peter, smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. "He was on watch I suppose sir. _Sleeping_ , I might add."

The other man scoffed and turned Alfred's head with the toe of his boot. "Sleeping? My, you _Americans_ may be more idiotic than we had originally presumed."

Alfred growled and yanked his head off the man's boot. "You have no room to talk limey. Lighting a goddamn fire at night? It's as if you're begging to be found." Alfred smirked up at the man.

The man frowned and looked up at Peter. "I _told_ you, fires are _not_ allowed."

Peter shuffled his feet. "S-sorry sir-."

" _Put it out!_ " The man hissed, sending Peter running out of the tent. Alfred chuckled as the soldier ran out but was quickly sent flying on his back as the other man's boot was forcefully brought up into his stomach. Alfred groaned in pain, curling in on himself. "I don't see what you're laughing about." He growled as he walked around the wincing man. "Because of your idiocy, your camp will be found in a mere few hours. I'm sending men out shortly after we chat."

Alfred glared up at the man. "You bastard. You don't even know where my camp is, I didn't tell that kid shit."

He laughed. "Yes, but you had to be _close_ to it. Therefore, we will search the perimeter around where you were found." He bent down, nose to nose with the American. "And we'll take them all in as prisoners."

Alfred growled and spit in the man's face, causing him to recoil back and send another painful kick into Alfred's stomach. He scoffed in disgust as he wiped off his face. "So immature." He shook his head and slowly made his way towards the opening of the tent. "Oh, and just because I am a gentleman, and that you'll be staying here for quite a while, I should introduce myself." He walked back towards Alfred and squatted down in front of the American who had come back to sit on his knees. "I am Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland." Alfred sneered at him. "Well, don't you have manners?"

Alfred glared at Arthur, sending as much of his hatred at the Brit as he could. Arthur rolled his eyes and began shoving his hands in Alfred's uniform pockets. "Hey!"

Arthur smiled, pulling out a small notebook and examining the front cover. "Alfred F. Jones? Alfred's blood boiled as the Brit snapped the book shut and shoved it into his own pocket. Arthur smiled evilly. "Pleasure to meet you."


	2. Lunch with the Lieutenant

Alfred slammed his head back in frustration, hitting it hard on the wooden pole he was tied to. He groaned. "Fucking Brits." He struggled with the rope around his wrists. "At least bring me some water!" He yelled towards the opening of the tent. "You're not the only ones at war…"

The tent flap opened and Arthur walked in. "You're making quite the ruckus Jones."

Alfred's lip lifted up in anger as he glared at the lieutenant. "I'm fucking starving here, thats why."

Arthur nodded. "Of course you are." Turning around he opened the flap and yelled out the opening. "Bring me my lunch! I'll be dining with the guest tonight." He added turning around to face Alfred. He grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of the kneeling soldier. "So, Alfred. How long have you been a rebel?"

"Ever since _you_ started this goddamn war."

Arthur chuckled. "I don't believe we are the ones to blame for the battle."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna start this with you." Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Both of us believe our side's story so talkin'' about it makes no sense right now."

Arthur nodded. "Now if only the rest of the men could think like you Alfred."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Arthur shrugged and crossed his legs. "Well, I dislike war as much as the next man, Jones. In fact, _I hate war_. Do you think I like sending letters home to the women and men back home, telling them of their husband's or child's death?"

Alfred swallowed. "Well I-."

The flap whipped open, cutting Alfred off. A man walked in carrying a tray, topped with some wrapped food and a glass. Arthur smiled at the man and took the tray, setting it on his lap. "Thank you."

The man nodded. "Sir."

After the man had left Arthur unwrapped the food, exposing a small bowl of soup and a few biscuits. Alfred was in awe. "Where the hell do you get this stuff?"

Arthur looked down at the American. "It's just broth and a few scones. They're not good ones but they'll do for war." Arthur sighed. "If my men cannot eat like kings at war, then neither will I." Alfred, once again, was caught off guard at the Brit's kindness. Arthur chuckled, taking note of Alfred's expression. "Amazing yes? We Brits are also humans."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say you weren't-."

Arthur shook his head, stirring the soup. "No of course you didn't. You all just _think_ it. And my men think the same of you." He smirked down at the American. "War turns men into monsters that believe anything, my boy." After stirring the soup, Arthur set the tray in front of Alfred.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I can't eat with my hands tied."

Arthur nodded. "I know, but I am not stupid enough to untie you-."

"But you're stupid enough to light a fire at night."

Arthur scowled at Alfred. "Would you like to eat, Jones?" Alfred smirked, but nodded. Arthur sighed. "Then, behave."

Alfred snickered. "So what, are you gonna feed me?"

"I don't see any other way around it. Unless you'll behave enough for me to untie you." The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Alfred's blue eyes burned into Arthur's, silently demanding him to surrender. Arthur chuckled. "I guess not." Picking up the bowl he dumped the broth in, filling half of the glass.

"Aw come on, this is humiliating. Can't you just untie one of my hands?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Now open up." Alfred sighed but complied, opening his mouth and allowing Arthur to tip the glass in between his lips. The broth was lukewarm and the taste was almost unbearable, but it was food and Alfred was grateful they were even feeding him. The American downed the glass in one gulp, shocking Arthur. He chuckled. "I wonder what you're like drinking."

For the first time Alfred let a sincere smile grace his lips. "Probably better at holding my liquor than you, limey."

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed a scone. "How old are you Jones?"

Alfred took a bite of the scone that was brought to his lips and contemplated lying as he chewed. He shrugged, what the hell was he going to do with his age? "M' nineteen." He said, mouth still full of scone.

"I never would have guessed." His answer dripping with sarcasm. Arthur stood up after the meal was finished and wiped his hands on his pants.

"What about you Lieutenant?"

Arthur looked down at the boy, surprised. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Alfred did his best mock British accent. "Well? Where are you manners?"

Arthur sighed. "I am twenty-four."

Alfred eyes widened. "Holy shit, that's young!"

"Young?"

Alfred nodded. "Well yeah, for a Lieutenant."

Arthur shrugged. "Well I don't think-."

 _ **Bang.**_

Arthur screamed and fell onto the floor, gripping his side. Alfred's head snapped to the side. A small hole had been torn into the side of the tent. "What the-?"

Loud shouts and screams became immensely loud outside the tent. Gun shots and running footsteps echoes around them. Alfred struggled against his ropes attempting to break free. Looking back at Arthur who was still moaning on the floor, Alfred rocked back and forth, wiggling the large steak out of the ground and freeing his arms. He fell onto his stomach as more bullets zipped over his head through the tent walls.

"Hey! Arthur!"

The Brits eyes snapped open, filled with fear. They finally fell on Alfred and quickly were absorbed in rage. Leaping up he tackled the American, pinning him down under his knees. "You shot me!" He screamed.

Alfred brought his shoulder up, slamming into Arthur's jaw and break free from the Brit's hold. "I didn't shoot you! You're being ambushed you bastard!"

Arthur looked around and quickly got off the ground, still clutching his side. "Shit!" Looking back at Alfred who was still bound by the wrists on his knees he growled. Kneeling down he looked into the boys blue eyes. His chest tightened and his stomach flipped. With a swift movement of his arm, Arthur had pulled out his knife and cut Alfred's restraints. " _Get out_."

Alfred drew his eyebrows together in suspicion. "You're just going to let me go?"

Both men jumped back as a bullet flew in between them. Arthur growled and pulled a small gun out of a holster on his hip. "Leave before I change my mind. I have more important men to tend to than you now."

Alfred hesitated, but soon ran out of the tent into a full blown battle. Bodies were scattered across the dirt from both sides. He bit his lip and began dodging through the men.

"Alfred!"

The American stopped suddenly and snapped his head to the side, following his name. It was Matthew. Alfred smiled. The other man ran up to Alfred and smiled. "Let's postpone the greetings. We gotta get the hell out of here."

Nodding, Alfred began running towards the woods, following the other Americans and grabbing an abandoned gun from off the ground. Glancing back at the camp before he reached the trees, he caught sight of a blond redcoat, staring at him from the front of the camp ground, clutching his side. The man narrowed his eyes and scowled at Alfred. Alfred chuckled and saluted him before running off. "Till next time Kirkland!" The American snickered and glanced down at the rifle in his hand, immediately stopping, noticing the bayonet on the end of the gun. Turning it in his hands he groaned as a small gold word on the butt of the gun caught his eye. " _Kirkland_..." He shook his head, reading the name over and over in his head. "Well shit."

* * *

Arthur stared at the woods shaking his head. He had watched the American run off into the trees with the gold rimmed rifle. "Bloody wanker." He mumbled. "That was my favorite gun..."


	3. Distracting Thoughts

_Well, I dislike war as much as the next man, Jones._

 _We Brits are also humans._

 _In fact, I hate war._

"Alfred!"

The American blinked and shook himself out of his daze. Matthew was walking next to him, drenched to the bone from the rain they had been walking in. Hie eyes were worried and he held Alfred's gaze sternly. Alfred sighed. "Sorry, I was just, out of it."

Matthew frowned and shook his head. "Are you sure you're ok?"

Alfred chuckled. "I'm fine, and you've already asked me that several times before Matt."

Matthew shrugged. "I am just worried. I mean you were being held captive in a Redcoat camp Alfred. That's pretty scary. I was seriously worried for you."

Alfred smiled. "Well, thanks Matt, but I'm really okay." Saying nothing more, Matthew nodded and focused his attention in front of him as they continued to walk forward. Alfred shifted his eyes back down into his hands where the rifle was. The gold around the edges of the gun glistened in the small amount of sunlight showing through the rainclouds. Alfred sighed. "Why'd I have to grab _this_ gun. Out of all of the guns on the ground…"

 _War turns men into monsters that believe anything, my boy._

Alfred bit his lip. The Brit's green eyes were in his head again. Burning holes into his very soul. The American shook his head. He had to forget the man, he was the _enemy_. Though, he had treated him with such kindness and humanity. It was only nature to feel some sort of gratitude towards the Redcoat.

* * *

Arthur placed his hand on the young man's forehead. He sighed. "You're not as hot as you were yesterday, I believe you're going to make it Private."

They boy, not much older than seventeen smiled. "Thank you sir."

Arthur smiled sadly and walked out of the tent, stopping to so he could lean in to whisper in the Doctor's ear. "Don't let him know. I don't want to scare the boy, he's not even eighteen yet."

The Doctor nodded sadly. "Yes sir."

Arthur quickly walked out of the med tent and into the battle aftermath that was his camp ground. Dead rebels and his own men littered the ground. His nose wrinkled in disgust. _Time to start writing_. Walking quickly to his tent he sat down at his desk and leaned back, rubbing his temples. He shrugged off his red jacket and threw it on the floor.

 _ **Thump**_.

Raising an eyebrow at the heavy thump, he leaned over and began fishing through his jacket. "Ah-ha." He smiled and pulled out the small source of the noise. It was a leather bound notebook, almost bigger than the palm of his hand. He turned it over in his hand, finding a name imprinted on the front cover. "Alfred F. Jones." He sighed as the boy's blue eyes began to invade his mind again, then his golden hair, and lastly his lips. When they would stretch so gracefully to form that handsome yet sly grin he shot towards Arthur many times when they talked.

Arthur shook his head. "What the fuck are you thinking!" He groaned and rubbed his eyes. If anyone found out he was thinking about the rebel _that_ way he would be thrown out for sure. Not to mention his _preferences_ would be looked down upon in the first place. Sliding his thumb up the book he pressed down on the corner of the paper and began flipping through the journal for the latest entry.

 _One thousand miles._

 _We had to have walked at least one thousand miles by now._ _Finally we are able to get some rest, but I'm on watch. It's okay though, it gives me time to think. Sometimes I wish this war had never started. As I look up at the stars, I wish I was back at home, in my own bed, looking at the stars through my window. I wish I didn't have to be so worried I won't be alive to see Amy's next birthday or see my mom again. I don't really know what to write anymore, I'm just trying to stay awake. I feel really alone right now. I miss home._

Arthur felt his heart tug as he read the words. The passage was dated for yesterday, it must have been the night he was brought to the camp. The Brit flipped to the next page.

 _I'm in this stupid British camp now. I'm such an idiot for falling asleep. I only have a few minutes to write. They haven't tied my hands but my feet are chained to this stupid desk that belongs to the Lieutenant. I just met him. My stomach hurts like hell because he kicked me two times. But I guess I've had worse. He looks really young for a Lieutenant. His eyes are the more amazing green. They're very handsome. I probably won't see him again so it doesn't really matter, biy for a second when I saw him, I almost felt happy. Someone's coming. I'm still very lonely._

Arthur set down the book. "Handsome?" His stomach did a flip, making him dizzy. "No, no. I cannot think like this. _I'm at war_."

 _Till next time Kirkland!_

Arthur gripped the book tightly as they blue eyes of the rebel crashed into his mind again. "Gah, fuck!" Throwing the book in his pocket, he grabbed his gun and coat. He stormed out of the tent towards the woods.

"Sir?"

Arthur turned around to find Peter staring at him, worried. He sighed. "I'm fine Peter. I just need some time to myself." Peter's gaze remained worried. "I just finished the letters."

The man nodded. "Ah, I see. Would you like anybody to accompany you sir?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. I'm not going far. Just for a quick stroll. If you hear gunshots or anything like that, come find me. I'll be in the perimeter."

Peter nodded. "Yes sir."

* * *

Arthur walked for about twenty minutes before sitting down on a rock. He set his gun down and leaned back on a tree behind him. He was hoping this walk would help clear his mind, but it only increased his thoughts on Alfred. He groaned. "Get out of my head." He sighed and reached into his satchel to grab some paper and tobacco. After making a cigarette he grabbed a match and began to smoke. He watched the smoke rise into the air and disappear over his head. He sighed, blowing some out through his nose. "Fucking joke, this is."

"You're telling me."

Arthur froze and his heart rate shot through the roof when something sharp was pressed against his back. The cigarette dropped from in between his lips and onto he ground. The sharp object pressed harder. "Stand. Up." Arthur slowly stood up, his eyes snapping to his hip where his other gun was holstered. He hand twitched at his side. "Don't, even think about it." The other growled.

Arthur smirked. "Whatever are you talking about?"

The men behind him chuckled. "I would hate to stain that _lovely_ coat with your blood, so if you want to keep it clean, I suggest you _behave_."

Arthur's blood froze once again. The sarcasm dripping from that voice was unmistakable. His hands clenched and opened. He gulped. "Jones."

He heard the gun cock. "How the hell do you know-?" His voice dropped as Arthur turned his head, to look at Alfred. "Oh, _shit_." His hands tightened on the gun and he brought it up higher, aiming it at the Brit's head as he slowly turned to face Alfred. "Stand still Kirkland!"

Arthur's heart skipped a beat when his green eyes met Alfred's blue. "Fancy meeting you here Jones." He opened his arms. "Well go ahead then, _shoot me_."

Alfred held his gaze before reluctantly setting down the rifle. "A life for a life, now we're even."

Arthur smirked. "That was your mistake Jones." Before Alfred could react, Arthur kicked his rifle away and pulled out his own handgun from his holster, pointing it right between Alfred's eyes.

" _Well,_ it seems my men aren't the only stupid soldiers at war then." Arthur chuckled. " _Never p_ ut your gun down when facing an enemy."


	4. Reunion

Alfred scowled at Brit. "Go on then, shoot me."

Arthur smirked but put his gun down. "And alert your moving troops of my position? I'm not _that_ idiotic Jones."

"Are you going to take me back to your camp then?" Arthur shook his head, slightly shocking the American. "Why?"

Arthur sighed and sat down on a tree stump, setting his gun down next to him. "Because I don't feel like it."

Alfred was baffled. " _You don't feel like it?_ "

"I'm tired of battle right now. I came out here out of hope of an escape for a moment." Looking up at Alfred he scoffed. "I suppose that is ruined now."

"Well I'm not too excited to see you either." Alfred growled.

The redcoat rolled his eyes. "Oh don't be a child." He smirked. "You and I both know you're more than happy to see me."

Alfred scoffed. "Why on Earth would I be excited to see you-?"

Arthur smirked as he dug through his coat pocket. "You weren't exactly subtle with your admiration Jones." The Brit chuckled lightly, tossing the American his notebook.

Alfred opened the book and bit his lip, his face turning a bright shade a red. " _You read my notebook?"_

"I had to figure out what your name was somehow." Arthur smiled.

"It's on the _front_ cover…" Alfred growled, shoving the book in his coat pocket.

He shrugged. "Well...I needed something to read. There's not exactly that much satisfying entertainment when you're at war."

"What? Killing _rebels_ isn't satisfying enough for you?"

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. "Well...maybe not _killing_ them." He mumbled, his eyes roaming over the American's form.

Watching the Brit's eyes slowly shift over him, Alfred took a step back. "What are you doing?"

Arthur chuckled. "I think you know."

Alfred placed his hands on his hips. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were sizing me up...and you have another gun in your pocket."

"Perhaps."

"Look, I don't have time for this." Alfred mumbled. The American sighed and bent over and picked up his discarded weapon. "I'm not in this war to get _involved_ with my enemy."

Arthur smirked. "But you want to…"

Alfred tightened his grip on the gun before letting it fall by his hip. " _Arthur_."

"Don't lie to yourself. You and I both know how we feel." He chuckled. "That's why you _still_ have my gun."

Alfred tensed. "I didn't know-."

"Oh just give it up already." Arthur stood up, stepping closer to Alfred. "We're both tired, we're both alone, and we're both in need of _something…_ " Arthur growled the last word, backing Alfred into a nearby tree.

The American, gripped his gun tightly as his back hit the tree. " _Get the fuck away from me_."

Arthur smiled, and placed his hand on of Alfred's tight grip on his gun. " _No."_

The American opened his mouth to shoot back a reply but was quickly cut off as Arthur roughly pushed his lips onto Alfred's. Alfred's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, dropping his gun and bringing his hands up to tug at Arthur's hair attempting to pull him off. The Brit stared straight back into Alfred's furious blue eyes, slamming his hands on the tree behind Alfred holding him in place. Alfred squirmed, attempting to free himself of the Redcoat's grasp, only resulting in the Brit bringing his hands up to firmly hold Alfred's head in his hands.

Alfred froze at the firm, but gentle hold his head was in. The Brit's lips began to move against his and to Alfred's surprise, so did his own. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest as Arthur's tongue grazed his lips. Alfred panicked. Squeezing his eyes closed he brought his knee up and rammed it up into Arthur's chest knocking him off. Grabbing the gun he had dropped on the ground, Alfred ran away and he didn't look back, leaving Arthur on the ground to only watch in silence as the American sprinted away.


	5. Feelings

Alfred ran like the Devil was chasing him. His chest was burning and his eyes were stinging with the tears that were threatening to come out. Finally, his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the forest floor. Panting, he scrambled backwards until he was against a tree. Alfred clutched his chest in a small attempt to slow his heart rate. HIs mind was racing. Why had the Arthur done that? Was he sick? Drunk? Maybe the war was getting to him. He shook his head and looked around the forest. It was getting dark.

"I need to get back." Alfred mumbled to himself as he fished out a compass from inside his satchel. Taking a deep breath he followed the red arrow North.

* * *

Alfred stumbled into camp, and was immediately greeted by Matthew.

"Where the Hell have you been?!" Alfred shook his head. "Do you know how many excuses I had to make up for you?" When Alfred didn't answer, Matthew's expression softened. "Are you okay?"

Alfred's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I don't know Matt. I honestly don't know."

Matthew's eyes widened. "Whoa, you look white as a ghost. Are you okay?" Alfred didn't answer. " _Alfred_?"

"Yes.." The blond groaned, beginning to sway. The last thing Alfred saw was Matthew exclaim his name and rush forward in an attempt to grab him before he hit the ground.

 _Then nothing._

* * *

 _But you want to…_

No, I don't.

 _Don't lie to yourself. You and I both know how we feel._

Leave me alone!

 _Just give up._

"NO!" Alfred screamed. He looked around with wide eyes as he took in his surroundings. He was in a tent, lying in a cot. Looking down Alfred brought a hand up to wipe his sweat drenched forehead. Sighing, he laid back down on the damp cot. "What's happening to me?"

"Seem's to me like you're having some conflicting feelings."

Alfred yelped and snapped his head to the side. Matthew was sitting on the cot next to him, arms crossed and an annoyed expression masking his face. Alfred let out a relieved sigh. "Jesus Christ Matt, you scared me to death."

"Who's Arthur?"

Alfred's heart skipped a beat. " _What_?"

Matthew's eyes became darker. "You heard me."

Alfred's mouth refused to produce words, shrouding him an a shocked silence. How did Matthew know about Arthur? Had he seen them kiss? Surely he didn't think they were in love. Alfred obviously pushed Arthur away, he had to know he didn't like him.

"You kept saying his name in your sleep. So considering the sleep talking and the fact that you've been disappearing into the woods randomly makes me deduce some interesting things-."

"You think I'm having an affair with someone during a war?"

Matthew nodded. "Well, what else do you expect me to think!? We don't know an _Arthur_!"

Alfred felt his hands begin to sweat. "You- you don't know what you're talking about. I was _captured_ -."

" _The first time."_

Alfred growled. "Why do you even care!?"

Matthew's eyes widened. "Why do I care? Alfred, we are at war!" Alfred looked away. "Alfred the only way this would be a worse offense is if it was with a Brit!" Alfred stiffened. Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Alfred."

Alfred bit his lip, tearing apart his brain for an answer to get him out of this mess. "I…"

"No." Matthew stood and walked to the edge of Alfred's cot. "Please tell me you're not having a relationship with a British woman…"

Alfred slowly turned around. "I'm not having a relationship with a British _woman."_

Matthew's face drained of color. "Or a man...right?" Alfred dug his nails into his hand and looked past Matthew's concerned violet eyes. "Alfred-."

"It's not a _relationship_ -."

"Oh Jesus Christ." Matthew slapped a hand over his eyes. "Alfred!"

Alfred tensed. "I'm not in love with anybody! He attacked me!"

"Attacked you!? He attacked you and you're having sleeping fantasies about him!?" The other practically screamed.

Alfred slapped a hand over Matthew's mouth. "No! He jumped me in the forest when I got trailed behind. He...he kissed me."

Matthew peeled the hand away from his lips. "And what? You kissed him back, didn't you?"

Alfred's jaw tightened. "I...I didn't want to, but-."

"But you did, and now you're fucked."

Alfred frowned. "No I'm not!

"Oh yeah? Well, what happens when you two find each other on the battlefield? Then what? Your feelings are going to get in the way and-!"

"No they won't." Alfred hissed.

Matthew sighed. "Alfred I don't think you under stand what you're getting yourself into…"

"Just, trust me Matthew. I'm not betraying this cause because of a kiss." Matthew's eyes met Alfred's, uncertain and afraid. "I promise."

Matthew shook his head. "I sure hope so."

* * *

Arthur swiped the flap to his tent to the side, striding in quickly. ' _Fuck_." Those damn blue eyes were still in his head. The Brit pulled the chair out from his desk and sat down. He leaned forward on the desk, resting his head in his hands. "What am I doing?" Looking up over the front edge of his desk he remembered the rebel, kneeling in front of him, tied up with an angry fire in his blue eyes. His stomach gave an involuntary flip and he groaned. "I'm such a fool."

 _They're very handsome._

Arthur's head snapped up as the rebel's written words flashed in his head. The boy was obviously attracted to him. He had scared him away though, so it didn't matter anymore. Arthur shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "You will never be loved."

 _Scratch, click._

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur stood up and spun around facing the back of his tent where the odd noise had come from. "Who's there?"

 _Click._

The Brit squinted his eyes. It was pebbles, moving. Shifting his gaze downwards a small white piece of paper sticking out from the bottom of his tent caught his eye. Quickly he bent down and snatched the the paper up, pulling it from the outside of the tent only to reveal what he had seen was only part of a larger piece of parchment. About the size of his hand. It was folded in half with something written on the front.

 _Arthur_

The Brit's stomach dropped and he quickly unfolded the paper.

 _If you want your gun back, come back to where we left off._

Arthur's lips slowly stretched into a smirk. "Well,I guess I didn't scare him off after all."


End file.
